


my all or my fall

by TrekFaerie



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Arguably Sentient Elven Technomagic, Biotechnology, Eye Trauma, F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Suicidal Thoughts, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-08 01:38:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8825095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrekFaerie/pseuds/TrekFaerie
Summary: Twenty years on, Stephanie and Trixie both move into their roles as the new hero and villain of Lazytown.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title bastardized from the leonard bernstein song a little bit in love.
> 
> ages are like hard. stephanie's 28, trixie's 27. everything else can be extrapolated from that.
> 
> more tags to come. i'm shit at thinking of them.
> 
> OH AND ALSO, inspired by this post: https://sporta-flop.tumblr.com/post/153979212840/i-like-the-idea-of-stephanie-becoming-the-next

The loud, familiar noise of a young woman yammering into a cell phone easily shook him from a hard-won nap, and he was annoyed. Sure, he wasn't actually supposed to be napping-- he was meant to be packing-- but just because he was recently retired didn't mean he had to stop being a villain. And being a villain sometimes involved aggravating your apprentice. It was written in the guidebooks he had steadfastly ignored, he was sure.

She wasn't really his apprentice anymore, really. It'd been many years since a teary-eyed, furious teenager, full of bitterness and confused feelings, had banged on his door and asked, demanded, to be taught the ways of villainy. He'd agreed, of course; after all, if Sportacus was allowed to force his pink pixie into a life of flipping and boring food, surely he could impart his lethargic wisdom on the loud trickster.

It hadn't turned out... exactly how he'd planned. Trixie-- it took approximately five months and five snake bites before her name finally stuck in his head-- wasn't interested in the laziness lifestyle, no more than she was interested in Sportadork's athletics and veganism. Her villainous potential lay in pranks and tricks, in petty larceny and vandalism. And she was good, damn it. Maybe better than he'd ever been, just for her sheer motivation to do bad things. Sure, she was motivated by poorly realized, poorly dealt with romantic feelings for a superhero, but what villain wasn't these days, right?

(He wasn't. Of course. Not at all.)

There were times when, consumed by the strange paternal sentiment he had developed over the years, he'd considered talking to her about it. He always put it off. Emotions were so tiring.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" he asked, lifting up his sleep mask to glare at her.

"-- I'll call you back, Stinge." She dropped the boxes she'd been carrying onto the ground unceremoniously, causing even more noise. "It's 2PM," she said, rolling her eyes. "I only have the U-Haul 'til four, Bobster. Your beauty sleep can wait until I've got all my shit here."

He groaned and threw an arm over his face. "You're killing me," he said. "Come back later."

"Whatever, dude." She glanced around curiously. "Have you even packed yet?"

It had been a week since a diagnosis of arthritis of the hip had made it increasingly obvious that a man of his age wasn't meant to be climbing and diving in and out of a subterranean lair. Trixie, who had been crashing in Stingy's empty house while he spent most of his week working in the city, had decided it was a wonderful time to really officially inherit what she called the "family business." So, Pixel had helped Robbie put a lease down on an apartment with a great location and a nice handicap entrance, and Trixie could stop giving Stingy weekly panic attacks with how badly she messed with his compulsively ordered house. It was a net benefit for everybody.

"Robbie? Seriously? You haven't packed at all, have you?"

He waved a hand dismissively. "I'm leaving most of it for you," he said. It was true, actually. He didn't need to mention that he'd only thought up the idea because the thought of actually packing had been giving him heart palpitations. "The costumes, most of the gear and tools-- even though that recluse makes all of your tech for you..."

"Not all of us can be naturally talented engineers," she said lightly, but he ignored her.

"The furniture... Never really had much. You've always liked the chair. Thought I'd leave it. Housewarming present."

That seemed to throw her off, and he revelled in the few precious seconds of complete silence. When more than a few precious seconds passed, he began to get concerned, and removed his sleep mask to look at her. The emotion in her eyes was inscrutable, but her mouth was parted as if to speak, so he waited for her to do so.

"... Thanks, Dad."

It had slipped out, of course, the past couple of years. But, he was rather sure it was the first time she'd said the word with any feeling without a liberal amount of grain alcohol helping along.

He sighed and stood to wrap his arms around her, bringing her in for an embrace that she eagerly reciprocated. His chin brushed the top of her head; god, she'd gotten so tall... It was probably a good time to help her out with what he had been mentally calling her "inevitable gay crisis..."

Nah. She'd be fine. Everything would work out. Probably.

-

"Computer, door!"

No response. Stephanie sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to stave off yet another tension headache. "Computer," she said, "door."

The door remained closed, and she gave up. She didn't know why the AI on Sportacus' airship consistently refused to obey her commands. Pixel had helped her reprogram it once Sportacus had officially deeded it to her, but the delicate intricacies of elven technology had been beyond even him. And Sportacus, puttering around the vegetable garden of his new house like a true retiree, had merely shrugged.

"Just ask nicely," he'd told her.

'I am asking nicely! She's just... She's just being a bitch!'

She pulled a face at her own foul mental language. Maybe she wasn't being nice at all. But, she'd always been frustrated by being unable to do the impossible things Sportacus had always been able to do with ease. Even nearly seven years of being Lazytown's official hero, nominally Sportacus 11, hadn't been able to stop it, even though she now knew the true effort those effortless acts had required.

She walked over to the front of the airship. The glass made it a bit more difficult for her to see with her spyglass, but she could still make out the general shapes: the truck Trixie had rented headed back to Stingy's place; the kids seemed to be playing hopscotch in the park; weird smoke wasn't coming from Pixel's house, which was definitely an improvement from last night...

Ah... Speaking of Pixel, she had to pay him a visit. One of the machines he'd given Trixie had really wrecked the apple festival her uncle had worked so hard to pull off. She wasn't sure he'd finally agree to stop supplying her, but it was better than doing nothing.

"Computer, door!"

... Well, unless nothing was going to be the only thing she'd be able to do today.

"... Please?"

The door swished open. She sighed, grabbed her crystal from its resting place, and left her airship.


	2. Chapter 2

Honestly? She didn't like visiting Pixel. It wasn't anything personal-- or, maybe it was. She wasn't sure. If it was, it was her own fault. It was hard to knock on the door of the person she, personally, considered to be one of Sportacus' greatest failures.

The advances Pixel had made in science in such a short period of time were astounding-- or, at least, that was what everybody said. The Nobel he'd been awarded was evidence enough of that, even as it gathered dust in a forgotten area of his house. Stephanie didn't really understand any of it, but she knew what he'd done was an objectively good thing. And it'd all been selfless, too; the corporation set up for him by Stingy (and run by his holding company) barely scraped any profit from the inventions sold publicly, so even people in the most remote and poor areas in the world could have their blood pumped by vat-grown hearts, or walk around on mechanical legs so realistic one couldn't tell without breaking the artificial skin. He had made such a better world for everyone to live in...

... She just wished he would go out and experience that world for himself.

She couldn't remember the last time he'd left his room, let alone his house. It'd passed onto him after his parents' deaths, and had become a fully mechanized marvel. They had visited him often at first, all of them, but he never returned the favor. Honestly, he never even seemed particularly happy to see any of them, even her. He just received them like a mafia don awaiting tribute.

He didn't even glance away from his several screens when she entered, her arrival announced by the soft chirp of his own AI system. It had the same basic system as hers, but without the elven magic; it was polite and helpful and never talked back... She stamped down her frustration. It wouldn't help.

"Pixel," she said tentatively. "It's me. Stephanie."

He did sneak a look at her-- but, unfortunately for her, not with what she considered his "good" eye. She'd spent hours hysterically trying to convince him not to do it, years back. After all, implanting experimental technology in your own eye socket, removing a perfectly healthy eye in the process, hardly sounded like a reasonable move. But, all that government contract cash bought surgeons who didn't ask many questions, and the first bionic eye transplant had taken place on its inventor.

It creeped her right out, always had. (It had, well... Also instantly ended a drawn-out love affair that had grown increasingly tumultuous and stormy as he withdrew from society and from her.) It often moved on seemingly its own accord, and it was hard knowing that a single glance could drag up the secret files he held on every person he'd ever met, and several he hadn't.

(She always wondered what hers said about her. "Stephanie Meanswell. Superhero. Virgo. Nagging ex-girlfriend.")

"Hey," he said, simply. His voice wasn't cracked or weak from disuse; he talked often enough, to business partners and government officials and private clients. But, she was definitely the first non-pizza guy-shaped person he'd exchanged words with in person in quite a while. Her sneakers left scuff marks on the perfectly shined linoleum floor, and a small cleaning robot stalked her footsteps somewhat menacingly.

"Can we talk?"

"Are we not talking?" He still had a charming smile, and it was still easy for her to remember why she'd fallen for him in the first place, losing her virginity to him on Stingy's couch during their first wild big city party... The whir of the artificial eye jarred her out of her pleasant memories. He'd still been fully human back then, she thought, somewhat unfairly, somewhat cruelly.

"I mean specifically."

"Did my apple-rotting serum work, then?" He knew exactly what she was there for. Of course he did. He knew everything. He didn't have to grin at her like such a little shit about it.

"You know it did," she said with a huff, crossing her arms. "You saw it on the news, same as everybody else."

"Yeah. It was really mean of that reporter from the city to keep filming while your uncle cried like that. I hacked his Ashley Madison account, and he's in the middle of one hell of a divorce right now. If that makes you feel any better."

It did, actually. But, as a superhero, it was not her place to support or condone illegal activities, no matter what hat color they involved.

"You know I want you to stop supplying her," she said. "I don't know why you refuse to."

"Trixie needs my help." The fingers clacking over multiple keyboards stilled, leaving the room quiet except for the constant hum of the machines. "She doesn't have the skills Robbie has; all the tech in his lair might as well be Greek to her. If she had to go up against you alone, you'd cream her."

"I don't even know if that's a compliment or not."

"Kinda? I mean, it's more one for Sportacus than anything else. He did a good job with most of us."

"He..." She sighed. Why did everything have to end up like this? "I tried to convince him to come visit you, you know. A few times."

"I don't really care. Would you want to visit the guy who tried to kill you?"

"He visits Robbie often enough."

"Robbie never meant it."

"And you did? I don't believe that for a second, Pixel."

"If you hadn't been there, I would've hacked off his fucking traitorous, computer-unplugging hand."

"Pixel... God, you still don't even feel bad about it, do you?"

"It was justifiable. Completely justifiable. I don't need the bullshit he's peddling anymore. I haven't needed it for years."

A pause. "And the bullshit I'm peddling?"

"I'm not going to stop."

She wondered what he was referring to by that. There were so many options. There were so many things he did that she wished, desperately, that she could stop.

And she couldn't. It had always been hard to accept her own limitations.

"... We were friends once, weren't we?"

"We fucked one or twice, too. And unless you're thinking of starting back up again, I think it's time for you to leave."

He actually managed to pull both eyes, real and fake, away from the screens to look at her. His expression wasn't angry, not at all. He just looked incredibly tired.

"Don't come back here if it's for bullshit, Stephanie," he said. "And for you? That pretty much means don't come back at all."

She couldn't pretend that it didn't hurt. The cleaning robot followed her as she quietly left his house.


	3. Chapter 3

"Do you even know how glorious it is to finally come back here and not have to go into a three day long cleaning spree?"

"You have never _had_ to do that, ever, in your entire life."

"Well, maybe. It's nice to not _want_ to, then."

Stingy was sprawled out on his couch like a maharajah, still dressed in his vest, shirt, and slacks, but missing his coat, tie, hat, and all the other little myriad accessories he wore when he went to go play businessman in the city. She hadn't known he'd be home; usually he spent most nights there, in his sprawling penthouse apartment, with all his glamorous city friends. She was glad he'd decided to slum it for a while just to see her-- which was what he was doing, even if he wouldn't dare admit it.

She was tired from hauling stuff all day, so she decided to make herself comfy for a bit and sat down on the couch. When Stingy's head inevitably found its way into her lap, she took the liberty of messing up his precisely gelled hair. He so rarely let her do it, so she guessed that he'd had a pretty rough week at work.

"After I move these last boxes to the van," she said, twisting his hair into messy little curls, "we won't be roomies anymore."

"Then don't. Stay with me. We'll move to the city together and leave this awful little town behind."

She rolled her eyes. This again. "I can't. I have to take over the family business, just like you did. You know that."

"I know, but... Trixie, you'd absolutely thrive in the city! You have no idea how nice it is, to not be somebody--" He paused, then laughed lightly. "Well, I am somebody, of course, but not all the time! I can just go down to a new club every night and pick up some tail on Grindr, completely anonymous, no strings attached. You'd love it. I know you would."

"I know, I know. I probably would..." She sighed. "You know how it is."

Stingy disliked Lazytown almost as much as Pixel did; she never really understood why the both of them stuck around, with all their resources. Pixel, it was probably because he'd already wired himself in so deep it made relocating a huge chore, but Stingy... Why did he stay?

Well, because of her, mostly; they'd always been the best of friends. And probably a little leftover greed in knowing he still had his little house in his little town. As much as he crowed about it, she knew being an anonymous face in the crowd wasn't enough to keep him satisfied. He needed Lazytown just as much as she did, if only for his narcissism.

"It's because of Her, isn't it?"

The way he said it word practically made it a title, and she knew exactly whom he meant. "It doesn't have to be about her all the time," she said. "It can be... Why can't it be about Robbie? He's been more of a father to me than my real one ever was; I can't just run away to the city after he's invested all this effort into training me up. I want to be the villain. I've always wanted to be the villain."

"You always wanted to be the villain because She was the hero."

"I don't need to justify myself to you."

"It's just... so annoying. To come back here from the real world, and see you two sniping at each other like children. Because you are, I know." He paused. "Pixel texted me before. He said She came to visit him earlier today."

"Really? God, after how long it's been... I don't think she's even texted him since the Freakout."

The two of them called it the Freakout; to the rest of their social group, it'd just been the Intervention, a last ditch attempt to get Pixel to see how his technology addiction was hurting himself and others. It'd had been their last real shot, just a few weeks before his eye surgery was set to happen. Maybe five or six years ago...

She didn't remember all of it-- couldn't, really. Stingy and Trixie had, completely against the spirit of the whole operation, been experimenting with ketamine at the time, and really kept to themselves throughout the whole thing. Everybody had been there; Ziggy, idiot that he was, had even brought his new wife and child to the party, as if they deserved to be immediately plunged into Lazytown's weirdness when Mrs. Busybody's welcome cake was hardly stale on their countertop.

It was mostly a blur, but she distinctly remembered the blood. Apparently, someone had brought a wire cutter, under the assumption that Pixel wasn't going to give up his rig without a fight, and Sportacus, the righteous fool, had decided to go after the main power switch-- only to learn that Pixel was more than willing to protect what was his with deadly force.

Really, Pixel should've gotten his ass beaten in that day. When he tackled Sportacus to the ground, it should've ended there; Sportacus should've just knocked him cold and left him there. At least, that was what she thought. (Robbie, too, of course, though he hadn't been there. He'd guessed what a shitshow it would be long before anyone else.)

But, no. Sportacus was too nice. He was too patient. He was too determined not to let this one down. And, for all his generosity, he got his forearm sliced from elbow to wrist, deep enough for bone to show. She'd seen the blood and heard Stephanie's screams and had immediately assumed she was hallucinating.

"She hasn't. But, She went and physically talked to him today." He grinned. "And it was all about you."

She rolled her eyes. "Foiling my evil plans again?"

"She wants him to cut you off from the good stuff, cold turkey."

"Ugh. She'd have me ordering whoopie cushions and fake dog shit from a catalogue if she could."

"It's Her way of caring, I think," he said, a bit quietly. "Because she does, you know. A lot. It's one of her least attractive traits."

"I know." A pause. "I think that's what makes it worse."

She stood up suddenly, leaving him to bounce his head against the couch and squawk indignantly. "And where are you going?"

"To finish moving my stuff." She felt like that was the answer. That if she could just get moved in, spend a night or two in the place... Everything would fall together. She'd find her purpose. "I'll text you later, okay? Send you pics of me naked on Robbie's chair."

"Ugh, spare me." But, he laughed. He always did.

She packed the rest of her things into the van, and squinted at the sky, trying to suss out the time without taking out her phone. Probably a bit past four... The kids would be out of school and playing. She decided she should probably go out and rile them up a bit, just to keep them on their toes. The fact that Stephanie would surely be out there playing with them didn't even cross her mind. Not even once.


	4. Chapter 4

She found Sportacus, as she usually did, elbow-deep in rutabagas. There was a time, many moons ago, when the house he now lived in had a front garden that could be called respectable and neat, if not beautiful. Now, of course, it was a maze of vegetable gardens and fruit trees, all growing practically wild and unfettered, and Mrs. Busybody, longsuffering head of Lazytown's HOA, often had to be pointedly reminded of all his years of service to the town-- and even then, she'd practically ground her teeth to dust in silent fury over it all.

Stephanie liked it, even though it always took her about five minutes to find the gate through all the vines. "Hey, Sportacus," she said.

"Stephanie!" He always seemed so legitimately happy to see her. "You must have been busy today, if you're visiting so late!"

"Mm, not too busy." She decided not to mention her morning troubles with the computer. Better to just stick to one problem at a time. "I visited Pixel today."

There was a barely noticeable pause. "Is he well?" he asked.

"For varying definitions of the word 'well.'" He'd taken off his hat due to the heat, so she could easily see the pointed ears he always hid, but also the slight greying at the temples he hid as well. "I'm gonna go play with the kids now. You interested?"

He shook his head. "No, not today," he said. "That storm last week knocked off a few shingles; I have to go up there and fix them."

"Okay." She smiled. "Don't fall and hurt yourself, old man."

He laughed, eyes sparkling. At least they never seemed to dull with age. "I promise I won't," he said. "Even if I do, I'll always have a hero there to catch me, won't I?"

-

The playground was already crawling with children of various ages, all of whom immediately abandoned their play and crowded around her, laughing and shouting. "Hey, Sportacus!" "Sportacus, look, I aced my multiplcation tables!" "Sportacus, Nancy told me Santa isn't real, is that true?" "Sportacus, play ball with us!" "Sportacus, look, Uncle Abe taught me how to ride a bike without training wheels!"

(Though clearly still known as Sportacus to the older generation, Sportacus went by what he referred to as his "milk name" with the children. Still, it always took a moment for Stephanie to realize whom they were talking about when they mentioned "Abraham.")

She greeted them all with smiles and hugs, congratulating them on their successes and asking after their parents, siblings, and hamsters, but she had an eye out for one person in particular. She found him standing near the jungle gym, height and bright blond ponytail making him stick out in the crowd.

"Ziggy!"

He looked up when she drew near and smiled, immediately moving to pull her into a gentle hug-- he couldn't practically lift her off the ground in a bear hug like he normally did, as he had his youngest, Lola, sleeping soundly in a papoose strapped to his chest. Tommy and Louis, his sons, were on the jungle gym, watching them curiously.

"Gosh, Steph!" He always acted like he hadn't seen her in years, instead of barely more than three days. "It's so good to see you!"

"Likewise. How was the conference?"

"Boring, boring. But the kids liked seeing Seattle, and you know how Dottie loves having them nearby."

Ziggy was, in his own words, a "super-househusband," caring for the children and minding the house while his wife, Dottie, ran her own practice in the city. She was often called to give talks at medical conferences, and Ziggy liked packing up the kids and taking them along; they'd travelled to more parts of the country, perhaps even the world, than Stephanie could even name.

He was happy, and healthy, and in the most emotionally, physically, and financially stable position a person could possibly have. Just being _around_ him made her feel better about her choices in life, that what she's decided to dedicate herself to really can make a positive difference.

"Hey, Sportadork!"

She looked, because of course she did. Trixie was leaning out of the passenger side window of the U-Haul, sneering. Stephanie raised her hand to wave--

"Catch!"

She didn't catch. Unless, of course, you consider getting hit in the face with something medium-sized and metal "catching." She didn't, and she had plenty of time to think about the definition of words as she fell back.

"Sportacus!"

"Stephanie!"

Ziggy caught her before she hit the ground, slowly lowering her until she was flat on her back. She tentatively touched her nose, the main impact site... His face was a mask of terror, and when she drew back her hand, she realized why. A fine layer of blood covered her skin. "Oh my gosh, Stephanie, are you okay?" He looked close to a panic attack; Lola wailed like she could sense her father's growing anxiety. "Do I need to call Dottie? I can call Dottie!"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Just--"

" _Stephanie_!"

She grimaced. Great, the only thing that would hurt worse than a possibly broken nose. "Don't let him see me like this..." she mumbled in vain. _Don't let him know I can bleed_...

Sportacus was at her side in a moment, perhaps a beat or two slower than before, but not by much. "Are you alright? What happened?!" His hands were on her face, checking her injuries, not even caring about the blood that stained his hands.

The kids all immediately crowded around them, making her feel slightly claustrophobic. "Trixie Trouble!" one of them cried out. "She was driving by, a-and she just, she just--"

"She threw a wastebasket at her." Tommy's voice was completely calm and reasonable. He'd even gone to go pick up the wastebasket, which was visibly dented from, she assumed, whacking against her hard head. He handed it to Sportacus, who frowned.

"I'm going to go talk with her--"

"No!"

They all stared at her, a million eyes so full of concern, of care, everybody just _cared_ so much... "I'll do it," she said. "Later. I promise. I'll go talk to her."

The kids all laughed and elbowed each other. "She's gonna go kick her butt!" she heard one of them whisper.

As Sportacus helped her up, steadying her on her feet, she couldn't say she had never considered it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "trek why did you marry ziggy to--" you don't know my life
> 
> also nobody cares but me but i wanna make sure y'all know it's not a typo: ms busybody is mrs busybody now, her and milford married but she kept her own name bc she is a feminist inspiration to us all.
> 
> ALSO if you're like "hey trek what do these two sad lesbians look like in your beautiful trekmind," it'd basically be like this: http://zolturates.tumblr.com/post/154475939703


	5. Chapter 5

"Couldn't we just, you know... Shoot them?"

He'd known something was wrong. She had shown up to his lair actually silent and subdued for once-- which, back in the day, would've been cause for celebration. But, now, he was only concerned; concerned that she'd spent the last half hour scribbling violently in the new notebook he'd bought her. Now that she'd finally started talking, he was even more concerned.

He knew what the problem was, of course. Sportaloser and the Pink Menace had shown up in town for a few hours to, almost pointedly, visit only Pixel and Ziggy before flying back to whatever absurd elf training adventures they were on. Trixie was upset that Stephanie hadn't even deigned to look at her as they walked through town with their noses in the air, like dirt couldn't even touch their pristine new uniforms.

(Robbie himself wasn't mad that Sportacus hadn't deemed it necessary to visit him.)

(Of course.)

(He'd only watched them the entire time they were there, and was staring at empty space through his periscope when Trixie piped up, because it was his responsibility as a villain.)

(That was all.)

"What?" he asked, even though he knew exactly what she meant.

"You know. Shoot them. With a gun." She fired two finger guns into the space in front of her, one after the other. "It'd be so easy! And then everything would be solved. I have no idea why you've never even tried it before."

"Because that's murder? Which is a _crime_?"

"Half the things you've been teaching me have been minor felonies anyway," she said. "What's the difference?"

He sighed and pushed away the periscope. How was this his life. How was he sitting here, a grown man, trying to figure out how to tell a bitter 20-year-old that murder was not the answer to her emotional problems?

"It's too permanent," he said, scoffing, hoping that his tone disguised the fact that her even bringing up death as an option was giving him hives. "I'd never dream of something so final."

"And running a guy out of town ' _forever_ ,'" it was disturbing, how easily she was able to mimic voices now, "isn't final?"

"Yes, but there was always a way out! If he failed, it was his own fault, not mine!" She was looking at him like he was an idiot. Which, to be fair, was how she looked at him most of the time. "You and me, my dear, play on an entirely different intellectual level from those other two-bit villains out there."

"'Gotham plays checkers while we play chess.'"

It was like talking to himself, which was very disturbing and brought up memories he had almost successfully repressed. "Yes, that," he said. "We don't need to use... violence. It's below our station! Not for villain number ones."

She looked down at her notebook and frowned. He held his breath, hoping she'd buy it. "... Okay," she said, sounding almost put out as she ripped a sheet of paper out and crumpled it up, throwing it over her shoulder.

Later on, when she'd left to return home, he'd gone to pick up the paper and examine it. The drawings... Well. He wondered if he had a therapist costume lying around somewhere.

-

"This is it!"

It looked a lot less impressive than she'd always thought it'd look. In a land of craggy mountains, it was surely the craggiest, but she'd rather romantically assumed the birthplace of all elven spirit crystals would be majestic and glorious. Instead, it was a dark slit of a cave opening, so unassuming that nobody who wasn't looking for it would know what it was... And maybe that was the point. She didn't know. Who was a 21-year-old trainee superhero to question the wisdom of the elves?

And Sportacus just looked so _excited_ about it all. He'd been grinning like a loon all throughout the seemingly endless hike from the ancient elven village to the cave.

He was still smiling at her, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening. "You're disappointed, aren't you," he said, though it wasn't a question.

She shrugged. "It's..." She paused to think up a word that was polite but also expressed her disappointment.

He held up a hand to shush her. "Just wait until we get inside, okay?"

She was glad she did.

The light coming from the mouth of the cave, a mere crevice in the rock face, somehow managed to light up the entire cavern and revealed its true beauty: beautiful crystals, of all the colors of the rainbow and then some-- some colors her eyes even refused to recognize as real-- studded the drab walls.

His hands were on her shoulders, giving her stunned body a light push forward. "Go on," he said. "You have to find it."

"H-How do I know which one to choose?"

"You'll know."

She did, in a way. She slowly walked into the cave, boots crunching virgin snow, like nobody had ever walked in there before her... Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced something familiar: the exact shade of pink of her hair. Just barely out of her reach, the crystal that spoke out to her, that had always been there waiting, stood embedded in rock, glimmering in the light.

"That's it," she said in a whisper. "That's my crystal."

Sportacus took a small trowel out of his backpack and started to hack the crystal out of the frozen wall with (even for him) a surprisingly small amount of difficulty. When he handed it to her, it was still rough and jagged, but lighter than she'd thought. "There are artisans in the village that will make it look more like mine,” he said. "But, I think they’re beautiful in their own way like this, aren’t they?"

She nodded, too amazed for words. He cleared his throat, as if about to give a prepared speech.

(She knew he was. She'd heard him practicing it for hours in the airship, when he'd thought she was asleep.)

"Our spirit crystals can do many things," he said, with a great deal of gravity. "For farmers, it tells them what their crops need to grow; for ranchers, it tells them what their animals need to thrive. It tells bakers when their breads rise, teachers what which student needs, writers what words to choose... For heroes, it tells you who's in trouble, and how, and why. The crystals tell you everything you need to know so that you can do what you're meant to do.

"And, Stephanie... You are meant to be a hero."

The crystal glowed suddenly, warm in her hand, then slowly returned to normal. Sportacus noted it with a satisfied nod of his head. "It likes you," he said confidently. "It's yours, now."

Tears welled in her eyes as she stared down at the gem that would help her become what she'd always wanted to be. "Sportacus," she said. "Thank you."

He ruffled her hair affectionately. "Don't thank me. The crystal can sense what sort of person you are; it knows you have the power and the morality to put it to good use."

As they hiked back down to the village, she held the crystal against her chest, close to her heart. Powerful and moral, huh...


	6. Chapter 6

Her crystal had started blaring, and she was seriously considering morally breaking it against a rock.

After assuring everyone that she was completely fine and uninjured and certainly did not need to be rushed to the hospital, she had retired for the night, retreating to her airship to lick her wounds. She _was_ fine, of course; honestly, the poor wastebasket was in worse shape than she was. Her greatest wounds were purely emotional.

It was so... frustrating! And she couldn't even talk to Sportacus about it, like she could all the other superhero things that upset her. After all, it was no skin off his nose if Robbie didn't like him; he always seemed to just naively imagine a friendship between them no matter what Robbie said or did. But, Trixie... She _had_ been her friend! All the way up until Sportacus had announced to everyone that Stephanie was leaving right after graduation to begin her official superhero training in the North. She had run off suddenly, never even said goodbye... And, when she returned, she had found out that Trixie had decided to turn to villainy! When had that happened? They'd always talked about trade school...

Since then, when had they ever really talked together? When she was spoiling the kids' fun, or pulling mean pranks on the adults. A few heated words and accusations. How could nearly ten years have passed without them ever exchanging even a few kind words? God, they had been friends!

Why couldn't they at least still be friends...?

The crystal blared on and on, and even shoving her pillow over her head wasn't enough to drown it out. She _was_ considering going to it, which meant that what happened next was unnecessary on top of totally rude.

"Oof!"

Her bed suddenly _disappeared_ beneath her, snapping back into the wall and leaving her to fall hard on the floor. "God, fine, I'll answer it!" She glared vaguely at the control panel. "You're a total bitch, you know that, right?"

No answer. She'd heard the computer actually talking to Sportacus, years ago. She was barely even sure the thing recognized her as a person.

She rose and picked up her crystal from its resting spot. Closing her eyes, she held her hands around it, allowing it to project all the information about the trouble she needed. Who could possibly be in danger at that time of night...?

She experienced trouble, through her crystal, as a variety of sense. Taste, touch, sight, sound-- cinnamon, cold night air, the stars in the sky, the creak of shoes on an old metal ladder, an uneven seat on a high ledge...

And then, through it all, she saw a single face, clear as day: Trixie.

"Oh, no." She put her crystal back in its place on her chest. "Trixie... I'm coming."

Or, well, she would have been, if the door hadn't refused to open on her command, and she ran right into it. Her hands flew to her sensitive nose, and her words came out in a growl.

"Jesus Christ! I'm going because you... you weird elf things told me to! Isn't that good enough? Open the _fucking_ door!"

_Swish_. The night air blew into the airship. " _Thanks_."

-

God, what the fuck had she _done_ , she was so fucking _stupid_ \--

Among the many things Robbie had left her was a pitiably small collection of liquor in a back cabinet. She'd broken into it a few times when she was younger-- villains steal, of course, so Robbie couldn't get mad at her-- and having a bottle of booze in her hand always at least made it feel like she could control her... impulses.

The impulses... They were getting harder to control. The constant, insatiable urge to destroy what she couldn't have... Because she did. She wanted her. She'd wanted Stephanie before she'd even understood what want truly meant. She wanted to kiss her, touch her soft pink hair... Or at least rip it out from the roots, 

"Fuck." Her voice echoed back to her in the cavern, sounding small and weak. "Fuck. I hurt her this time. I really hurt her."

She felt sick as a dog. She'd left her bleeding; she'd seen the late afternoon sun shine off it in the side mirror as she'd driven away. Why had she done that? Why had she even _thought_ of doing that? How had she grown up from the little kid who pulled girls' pigtails in class to an adult who decided physically assaulting someone was definitely the best way to show your repressed, fucked up affection?

"Why can't I just be honest with her for once in my life?"

Robbie had talked to himself too, back in the day. He'd started doing it less and less as the years passed, as he found her easier to talk to... But, Robbie was probably asleep in his new apartment. And she wouldn't want to bother him, anyway. He would only worry... And feel guilty, she assumed. That he really had created a monster.

She found the cinnamon whiskey near the back, still mostly full. Robbie had never liked the spice of it... It burned her throat pleasantly as she took a long swig. "What a fucking mess I've made of everything..."

The moon was full tonight, she'd noticed. Maybe some fresh air would help clear her head...

She brought the booze with her, of course. What was the worst that could happen?


	7. Chapter 7

The beeping slowed and quieted the closer she got to the lair; as long as it knew she was headed in the right direction, it trusted her to keep going. 'More trust than I have in myself,' she thought, grimacing. No, she didn't want to be the kind of person who turned away from someone in trouble. (Even if she was technically being forced into action by fell elven magics. Did that make her a bad person? No. It made her a smart person.)

Trixie was sitting, for some godforsaken reason, on the very top of the billboard, swaying in a way that made her heart go into her throat. "Trixie!"

There wasn't a reply. But, a thick gob of spit did suddenly land only a few inches from her shoe.

"Trixie, it's me!"

"I know it's you!" She grimaced at the slurring in her voice. "That's why I fucking spit!"

"W... Why are you even angry?" The temper crept into her voice, try as she did to stop it. "You're not the one who nearly got a broken nose today!"

"Fuck off, Pinkie!"

"Not until you come down here! You could fall!"

"I hope I do!"

Don't panic. Don't panic. The ancient elves had no protocol for suicide intervention. Sportacus had never trained her to be a negotiator. This was something she would have to do on her own.

"I'm coming up there!"

"Don't!" But, she had no choice.

Slowly and steadily, she climbed the ladder until she reached the top of the billboard, only a foot or so away from Trixie. She was seething. "You never listen to me!"

"I'll listen to you if you stop making bad choices." She sighed, noting the partial emptiness of the bottle. Bad choices indeed... "We need to talk. I'd rather not do it here."

"I'm not moving. You can talk all you want, but I'm not listening."

"Well," she said, drumming her fingers on the billboard. "I might as well make myself comfortable then, right?"

"'Comfortable?' What-- Jesus!"

It was easy enough to pull herself onto the edge of the billboard, using the lighting fixture to swing herself into a wobbly standing position. Once she was sure of her balance, she grinned despite herself. She wondered if she'd ever get to the point where stunts didn't amaze her.

Her feat just seemed to put Trixie in an even worse mood, though. "Show-off," she said with surprising venom. "Always such a fucking show-off."

Stephanie wrinkled her nose. At the closer range she was at, she could smell the whiskey. "You're drunk," she said.

"And you're not." She held out the bottle and swished around the liquid inside it. "Drink with me, Pinkie. Sharing is caring, right?"

"I can care about you without the booze, Trixie."

"Well, I can't. So. There we are."

She sat down next to her, close enough for their hips to touch, kicking her legs off the side of the billboard. "I've been worried about you, you know," she said, only lying a little bit. _She_ was certainly worried, after all. "Everyone is. Especially the kids--"

"The little brats are missing their entertainment? Their little performing monkey?" She scoffed and took another long swig. "No. I'm not making the same mistake Robbie did. I'm gonna leave here, you know? That's what I've been thinking about up here. Move to whatever bigger city doesn't have a villain. Maybe Tucson. Someplace I'll be able to do even bigger and better tricks! I'm not gonna waste my fucking talent on here, on _you_ \--"

She knew she didn't mean it. She knew she couldn't mean it. She knew Lazytown was in Trixie's blood as much as it was in hers, and that neither of them could ever leave it behind for good-- none of them could. It didn't make it hurt any less.

"I wouldn't want you to. I'd miss you if you left, of course," she said, "but, I'd never stop you from doing what you want to do, Trixie--"

"God!" She let out a bark of cruel laughter. "You even sound like him, now! All... All placating bullshit. Words that sound nice but don't mean anything to anybody. I don't even think they mean anything to him."

A pause. "Having a hero here isn't gonna save those kids from getting fucked up, you know," she said, voice softer. "It didn't save any of us."

She closed her eyes. "It saved me."

"You never needing saving. You were the new girl in town; you didn't have the... the fucking poison of this place already in your veins. Sportacus didn't, either. That's why he never really got it. Why he never got Robbie." Her lips quirked, like she was considering smiling. "He loves him, you know?"

That got her attention. "Robbie?"

"Yeah. When I reached third on the villains' list, he bought me a bottle of Henny to celebrate. He ended up crying on my shoulder at 3AM, about how he loves him, he's always loved him, it's driven him mad... Look! Look at your face right now!"

"What about my face?" She didn't know whether she felt embarrassed or insulted. Why did her feelings always have to show so openly...?

"Your expression! Shocked! Appalled! Like you don't even know that the big bad town villain is capable of feelings! Like you don't know that _I_ have feelings!"

"Of course I know you have feelings!"

"No, you don't! You really don't! Because, if you really knew I had feelings, you'd know they're all fucking about _you_ , you absolute--"

She kissed her. She didn't really know why. She just put her hand behind Trixie's head, and pushed her face closer, and kissed her. She tasted sour, and froze against her, unmoving, unbreathing. She inched back, opened her mouth to speak, but her words died unspoken against Trixie's mouth as she kissed her back.

She didn't even know they were slipping until the world fell out from underneath them.

"Stephanie!" She'd recognize later that it was the first time Trixie had called her by her actual name in years. Now, she was far too concerned with keeping her grip on the edge of the billboard and Trixie's hand. She tried not to look down, at Trixie's terrified eyes, at the height that would surely kill them both, if her hands lost just a bit of their strength...

"Stephanie!"

Like an echo... But, that wasn't Trixie, that time. It was another voice, a male one--

"Sportacus!" Relief filled her as she looked down and saw Sportacus-- and Robbie, for some reason?-- standing at the base of the billboard, looking up at them. "Sportacus, I can't hold on much longer!"

"Hang on! I'm coming--" She couldn't hear over the sound of blood rushing in her ears, but she could tell the pause was Robbie snapping some observation at him. "-- Stephanie, drop Trixie! I'll catch her, and you can lift yourself up!"

"Don't you dare drop me!" Trixie screeched like a cat in water, short nails digging into Stephanie's flesh.

Stephanie looked down, met her eyes with her own, tried to force every feeling she'd ever had into one single gaze.

"Trixie," she said, "I would never do anything to hurt you."

Trixie stared at her for a moment, stunned, moonlight reflecting off her tear-tracked face.

She smiled.

She let go.

All of Stephanie's faith in Sportacus, which was immeasurable, could not stop her heart from skipping a beat as she watched Trixie fall. Only when she was safe in his waiting arms did she allow herself to breathe. Without the extra weight, it was easy enough to pull herself up and climb back down on the ladder. She joined the ground to find Robbie shaking Trixie by her shoulders, dressing her down while Sportacus stood off to the side, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

" _Beatrice Gongyeong_! Do you even know how I felt when his damned crystal went off and he said it was you?" He sounded slightly hysterical, and she felt like Trixie should have been finding it funny; instead, she just looked utterly miserable. "If you want to see me in my grave, pull another stupid trick like that again! 

A light went off in her brain.

"What were you two doing together at this time of night?" she asked, suddenly.

It was like the whole world stopped. Robbie stopped. Trixie stopped. Only Sportacus moved: his face turned bright red, and he hid it behind his hands.

Trixie started laughing shrilly. "Oh my god!" she said, practically screamed. "This isn't real, oh my god! This is not even real!"

"Must you always be so loud," Robbie said with a sigh, not a drop of venom in his voice.

She threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek, still laughing. "Holy fuck!" she said. "We're all getting laid tonight!"

"It's getting very late," Sportacus said, his face nearly purple. "We all ought to head home... We'll wake up half the town if we keep this up..."

Stephanie, for lack of anything better to do, turned to leave, to head back to her airship and hope she'd done enough to make the computer decide to give back her bed. She only stopped when she felt a hand slip into hers, and turned to find Trixie looking at her with a shy grin on her face.

"You heard me," she said, with that sort of shake in her voice that told Stephanie she wasn't nearly as cocksure and confident as she looked. "You're staying with me, Pinkie."

She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. "Your place or mine?"

-

Trixie's lair-- it was still strange to think of it that way-- was an absolute disaster area. Even though the lights hadn't been turned on yet, Stephanie knew; she could hear the sound of junk being kicked around as Trixie, cursing and grumbling, struggled to find the light switch. The light revealed... Well, knowing her, it was probably an organized mess. She did always seem to know where everything was, as long as it was in her own mess. And it wasn't like Robbie had ever kept the place much cleaner.

Speaking of him, it was the familiar orange armchair that Trixie attempted to pull her over to... She shook her head firmly. "No," she said, "it'd be... just way to weird to do it there."

"And just what are we doing?" Trixie waggled her eyebrows at her, and she laughed despite herself.

"Come on! You have to have a bed around here, or something!"

"Well, I do have something..."

It was, in fact, a mattress. It was a very large, very comfortable mattress, with sheets and pillows and everything, but it was still an island of a mattress of the sea of junk that was the floor.

"How glamorous," she said, flopping down onto the bed anyway, not even bothering to take her socks off. It'd been a long day.

"Sorry it's not up to your standards, Princess Stephanie! Not all of us can have our beds just come out of the wall... Maybe. I'd have to ask Pixel-- What?"

Trixie was staring at her oddly, and Stephanie blushed. She could only imagine what her expression looked like, based on how she was feeling... "I, just... I just like it when you call me by my real name," she said. "Not Pinkie, or Sporta-something, just... Stephanie. I like that."

She gave her an even odder expression before finally joining her on the bed, crawling over her body, easily dwarfing her. She stared at her, eyes wide open, their faces so close their noses briefly touched. "Do you know," she said slowly, "that's probably exactly the same thing your dad said to my dad before they sucked each other's dicks?"

"Trixie!"

She lost her balance as they shrieked and laughed together, falling on top of her but quickly sliding off onto the side. Her arms found their way around Stephanie's body and held her close.

"I know I'm supposed to be the big bad villain ravishing the innocent hero, but..." Trixie sighed against her hair. "I'm actually super tired. Can we just...?"

"Of course." Trixie's body curled up even closer against hers, arms wrapped around her waist and Stephanie's head in the crook of Trixie's neck. She was surprised by how quickly Trixie fell asleep; with the warmth and slow, steady, comforting breathing, she wasn't surprised at all when she herself quickly drifted off.


	8. Chapter 8

She woke up with a screaming headache and her eyes all full of pink, and Trixie couldn't, for the life of her, remember what had happened the night before.

She could remember, a perfect crystalized memory in her mind, that Robbie had gotten laid last night. That was a positive. Had she gotten laid? What else could the pink mean? Stephanie was definitely there, still sleeping and snuggled up next to her, a dreamy little smile on her beautiful face... But, there were no other obvious signs. They were still in their clothes, for crying out loud! All she could feel was the cottonmouth and throbbing brain of a whiskey hangover.

Stephanie's eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at her with a smile. "Hey," she said.

"Hey." Feeling bold, she leaned over and kissed her, short and sweet. "Good morning."

"How are you feeling?"

"Like a truck hit me."

"Same." She winced, but Trixie couldn't imagine why... And then she saw her reach, almost subconsciously, for her nose.

Oh. Right. That had happened.

If she wanted to get to the sweet kisses and good mornings part of the relationship, she probably had to get past the "I nearly gave you a concussion" part.

She really didn't want to. All she wanted to do was stay in bed all day, cuddle, maybe finally learn if Stephanie's hair color was actually natural... But, no. Building a romance on shaky ground sounded like a recipe for heartache. And she'd had enough of that for a lifetime.

"I don't even know how to begin to say I'm sorry," she said quietly, cupping Stephanie's face gently.

"It's fine, really. You didn't even hurt me."

"Don't excuse what I did. I did hurt you."

"I've already forgiven you. You need to forgive yourself."

"I don't know if I can."

"Well..." Stephanie's hand rested on her hip, holding her loosely. "You can start by saying you're sorry. I think that's the traditional way."

"I've never been so sorry for anything in my entire life."

"See? Easy, right? Now, kiss me."

She did. How could lips be so soft? She must have been imagining it; there was no way her mouth could taste like strawberries.

"There. All better."

It didn't feel all better... But, it felt slightly better. And she supposed that was a start.

Stephanie yawned. "Do you know what time it is?" she asked. "I can't even tell if it's day or night, down here."

"I don't care. I just want to stay here with you forever."

"As wonderful as that sounds..." She trailed off, a faint smile on her face. "At the end of the day, I have to get back to being a hero."

"And I have to get back to being a villain."

"Nothing has to change too much."

She paused. "If you'd like to," she said, "we could change it all."

"What do you mean?"

"Retire. Quit. Just... stop everything we've trained our whole lives for. It all seems so dumb when I'm lying here." A pause. "Let's run away together."

"I can't."

"I don't think anyone would care. I don't even think Sportacus would care, considering what he's up to now." And _whom_ he's up...

"No, I actually literally can't." Trixie's smile faded when she realized how serious Stephanie's expression had become. "If I don't fulfil certain obligations as a superhero, there will be consequences. I may turn into a tree."

"... _What_."

"Yeah."

"What were you guys even _doing_ up there?"

"I don't know, it was pretty wild... Blood pacts were involved. I don't think I'm even supposed to be talking about it."

"Jesus..." She whistled through her teeth. "Well... I don't think Robbie will give too much of a damn if I stop doing so much villainy. I'll keep it as a hobby, I think. Just enough so no other villain thinks they can move in on my turf, or my girl."

Stephanie's face flushed a light pink. "Your girl..."

"No reason to get embarrassed now, Pinkie! I mean, we kind of just literally slept together."

"No, I'm not embarrassed... I'm... I think I'm happy," she said, her voice full of wonder. "I think I'm actually, finally happy."

"Oh." Emotions. Those were still hard. She'd have to work on that-- but, she was sure Stephanie was more than willing to be a good teacher. "Well, uh... You know..."

"Hm?" She was just so pretty... Her face, her eyes...

When did she ever start being lucky?

"We could always make that literal a bit more, you know... Figurative."

Stephanie gave her a long, flat look.

Then, she giggled, a quick snort of laughter.

Then, she kissed her again. Hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter and then we end this baby. how exciting.


	9. Chapter 9

Sleeping in the airship kinda sucked. On the one hand, there _was_ some pretty cool tech in there, and the idea of being able to look down on Lazytown like a god on high appealed to some vain part of her.

(The glass was nice. It was stronger than it looked, too. She'd tested it out with a terrified Stephanie-- scared only at first, of course, she'd quickly gotten into it. _Way_ into it. They'd both discovered stuff about themselves that night.)

But, it was also incredibly terrifying. Maybe not the height, though she preferred spending stormy nights underground. The... What was the right word for it? How could she properly explain her anxiety...?

Basically, Trixie was really uncomfortable that ancient elven technomagic was watching her fuck her girlfriend.

But, the perks definitely outweighed the negatives, and being able to spend her sleepless nights perched in the cockpit and watching the stars was worth it all.

(She'd been sleeping better with a warm body next to her, but years of living on Robbie's schedule couldn't be undone in only two short weeks.)

An unusual noise got her attention, and she looked up to see that some mail had arrived. It was about 2AM, way past the bedtimes of any usual letter-writers... And surely if anyone else they knew wanted to contact them, they all had cells. She wondered what it could possibly be...

... Well, Stephanie wasn't going to wake up. The noise hadn't even made her move; the girl slept like the dead. And mail tampering was a federal offense, so she practically felt obligated to open up the tube and read the letter, typed out on pretty quality printer paper.

_Trix_

_I know Eleven's asleep. Come down. I want to talk._

_Pix_

Pixel...? Now, he _definitely_ had a phone. Several, in fact. And the fact that he had sent a letter meant that he had to be, for the first time in a very long time, outside. That alone was enough to pique her interest.

"... Hey, Computer?" She spoke in a whisper, even though she was sure even her normal voice wouldn't wake Stephanie. The computer trilled softly in response. "I need to step out for a bit. Mind lowering the ladder for me?"

The door opened with just the slightest hush of a noise, and she grinned. "Thanks, doll. You're a babe."

(Stephanie said the computer hated her. Trixie was pretty sure it had a crush on her.)

The climb down was easy enough; she'd been going up and down it so often, most usually at night or early in the morning, that it had become almost second nature to her. She glanced down about a quarter of the way and saw a streak of red in the moonlight. Christ. He was really there, wasn't he?

Her bare feet hit the pavement, and there, before her very eyes, was Pixel. He was leaning against the mailbox, though he still had his cane in his other hand. He looked alright, rather like the last time she'd seen him, but with one concerning addition: a pair of dark sunglasses. Had he been inside so long that even moonlight hurt his eyes?

"So," she said, "felt like calling yourself up a hero?"

He grinned. "I'd be pretty disappointed if I was," he said. "No, I just wanted to see you. We haven't talked since this whole," he waved his hand vaguely, "this happened."

"What do you mean, we haven't talked? I just texted you this morning."

"I meant actually talked. With words."

"Oh. Since when have you cared about that?"

"I don't know."

An awkward silence descended, and she coughed. "You're not, like, mad at me or anything, right?" she asked. "I didn't violate bro code or anything, right?"

"Jeez, Trix, it's nothing like that. I'm not a Neanderthal; I don't have any claim to her or anything." A pause. "You're better for her than I am, anyway. You two fit together better."

"You guys were good while you lasted."

"And we didn't last. But, I didn't come here to talk about the past," he said. "Came to talk about the future."

"The future..." She frowned. "Pixel, to be honest, even I haven't talked about the future. With anyone. I'm just taking this whole thing day by day."

"Are you planning on giving up villainy, now that you're boning the hero?"

"... I swear to God, nerd, if you're using your weird goddamn drone cameras--"

He laughed, really laughed, and held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm not, I'm not! Honest!" he said. "It's just you two lovebirds have been spending the night together every night-- I'm gonna hope you've actually gotten some action."

She didn't have to dignify it with a response. "I mean, there's nothing in the rules that says a villain and a hero can't date," she said. "And there's nothing that says I can't keep doing evil junk if I want to. And I do want to. How boring would our childhoods have been if Robbie had actually Sportascored and settled down like he is now? I can't disappoint the kids like that."

"So, you'll still be wanting the nanites for Founders' Day?"

"Yes. Yes, I will." But, she'd noticed the slight change in his expression, the darkening. "... You know, I'm sure Steph would like to see you outside, too. Maybe during the day?"

"I might burst into flames."

"Wear a hat. Jeez... It'd make her really happy, you know?"

He stopped; she could see by the twitching of his real eye that he was deep in thought. "Hm..." He ran a tongue over chapped lips. "Sportacus is dead to me, you know."

"Yeah," she said. "I know."

"But... That's Ten, isn't it? I haven't really, you know... I haven't really given Eleven much of a chance, have I?"

She smiled. "Trust me when I say she won't disappoint."

"Yeah, well. You're biased, aren't you?"

"And so are you."

"Yeah. I guess you're right."

The tension hung there until she finally drew him into a tight hug, the first true contact she'd had with him in years. He didn't hug her back, as his arms were needed to keep himself from falling, but he did rest his head on her shoulder until she pulled back.

"I'm actually going to be leaving the house again, next week," he said. "Stingy's been bothering me to be his wingman at the clubs with him, since you're so busy... He says I need a girlfriend that isn't an Estonian camgirl."

"Aw, but I liked Olga. She was such a good tank."

"I think it'll be good for me... Yeah. I guess you've kinda just... inspired me a little. The two of you. To start doing stuff that's better for me."

"Oh God," she said, "if I tell Pinky that, she might never shut up about it."

"Then it'll be our little secret, right?"

"No secret smaller than nanites."

When she returned to the ship, Stephanie was still seemingly fast asleep. But, when she lifted up the bed covers and slipped in next to her, the sudden cold must have stirred her. "Hmm?" Her eyes didn't open, but her face turned up to hers slightly. "Trixie...? Somethin' wrong?"

She smiled fondly and kissed her nose. "Just watching the stars, babe," she said. "Just watching the stars."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND WE'RE FUCKIN DONE Y'ALL
> 
> thank you for joining me on this wonderful, self-indulgent trip through my id. though i do not respond to comments that aren't direct questions bc compulsive neatness, i dearly love every single person who has commented, kudos'd, and read this little tale of mine.
> 
> TALK TO ME. comment here. talk to me on the tumbles. my heart is open and full of love.


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